His voice shook, but he still maintained his stoicism.
"You had no intention to do wrong, my poor boy, I know it, but no one will believe that but your mother. It's my fault too in some way, I suppose." The agonized mother's consciousness of failure in shaping her child's character broke from her. "I'd willingly take the blame on my shoulders if I could."
He held her hands tighter. She knelt beside him.
"Let's see. No one has had anything to do with the Fund except you, Chiswick, and Jim"—-the thought of Jim brought reassurance. Jim perhaps could help them in some way to evade discovery. "Jim—Jim," she reiterated.
Henry answered her unspoken thought. "Jim and I quarrelled last night."
"Quarrelled—about what?"
"Diana."
"Diana?"
"They were spooning last night—I caught them. He loves Di"—and under his breath he cursed him. She hardly heard the last words. Jim loved Diana—her resolve was formed. She must see Jim.
"Henry, try to control yourself and return to our guests. Let no one leave this afternoon under the impression that you are in trouble."